Children of the Sun
by WritingSchizo101
Summary: When Prince Zuko rescues a courtesan named Areida, she joins up with him in his search for the Avatar. Can Areida learn to balance her fear of Zuko, as well as her love? Or will her past, marred by tradition and violence, catch up to them both?  LEMONS!
1. Fire

**Dislcaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender, nor any of its characters. Though Areida IS mine. Enjoy!**

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I sat motionless for two hours straight as, just inside the shadow of the long-since abandoned teashop, my village burned.

Cries of pain, rage, and surprise reached my covered ears— allies and enemies alike both feeling the same things. My hands dropped limply into my lap and, after a moment, I forced myself to stand, still keeping my back defensively against the wall as I peered fruitlessly into the darkness and sifting dust. The room was fairly small, the interior housing cluttered, outdated furniture such as chairs and long wooden tables left from the previous owner. In truth, the only sign of life or disturbance throughout the years was the much-abused couch shoved haphazardly into a corner, the lumpy mattress on the floor, a lit candle on the table with my lukewarm cup of chi sitting untouched beside it, and the . . . garbage, so to say, strewn about the floor.

I could smell smoke. How close were they now? A scream of horror erupted outside, what sounded like a few yards away. The pitch told me it was either a very young boy, or a woman. _A Kyoshi Warrior? _

I felt my heart sink. If it was, indeed, an ally, she was gone now. Fear dissolved into anger, whether in an attempt at self-preservation or a result of mounting adrenalin, I could not be sure. I kicked at the filthy mattress and hopped over it when no movement occurred. "Shit." How could I have been so stupid as to think no one would find me? If not an enemy, then what would any so-called ally do with a strange girl they found hidden in their village? Even more stupid, I could not ignore the brief flutter of hope I'd felt when I imagined _they_ would remember, turn around, and rescue me.

In my five-month stay in this village— in this tiny excuse for a shop I'd deluded myself in calling _home_— only three people know about me. All of them men. Scratch that— only three people living in _this village_ at current. Some twenty-odd men have been brought here to see me at some point. Those men I have never seen, nor would I wish to see, again. They leave, as they should, unlike the three who brought me here. Almost always drunken, they neglect to tell me their names or offer any further salutation other than waving condoms at me, if they remember to use them. If they remember my existence at all, as they frequently go days before visiting once again.

_Idiot_. What reason did they have not to flee without me? Just one man alone could easily find another girl to play his pet for a few days. I shook my head to clear it, and scanned the room for exits, not for the first time, though I was never confined before. Six too-high, barred windows with no way to reach them, all facing east, away from the setting sun and, thus, the ever-nearing battle. Nope. Cursing again, I turned to the door. Outside, I could hear someone grunting and falling, smashing into something that made the building's delicate frame shudder. A sudden light accompanied the cloying smoke, which was beginning to creep into the room, and the sharp crackling of fire. The fear was back again in damp beads of sweat at my hairline, for no one could ever again associate that sound with a merry fireplace or warmth.

How many Fire Nation soldiers, having dispatched my every chance at aid or escape, were outside that door? Did they intend to do me harm? Why? Distant battle and fire aside, the air around the shop was deathly quiet. Not daring to believe I was alone again, I bent to pick up the small box I'd hidden beneath the couch. In it contained my pitifully meager payment for all I'd gone through; unless I intended to throw the tin box at someone's head, I found little in the way of weaponry. The candle would only make things worse if— Agni, forbid— whoever was outside could bend fire. A chair, maybe?

Just then, heat erupted beside the door, eating away at the shabby wall like a starving tiger, licking its meal, spewing black, curling smoke like blood. Behind me, the entire far wall burst into flames. Panic and the polluted air choked me instantly, and I dropped to the floor, rubbing furiously at my stinging eyes. I closed them and began to crawl toward the door by feel. Screw the Firebenders— I was getting out of this damn room!

"Come on out Avatar," a voice ordered from behind the door, somehow rising above the noise of the fire. I was so flooded with elation at knowing I moved in the right direction, their words never registered. A man, yes. Not a good sign. "You can't hide forever!" Around me, the roof gave a sharp cry of grief as it began to cave in, pieces of rubble tumbling to the floor around me. I choked again, but continued crawling. My hand bumped something dreadfully hot, and I screamed, jerking backward. "Come out and face me, coward!" The man let out a scream of rage and, soon following, came another crash from the same direction, the direction of the door.

Impossibly, _more_ smoke poured into the damnably small room, blasting my face with unrelenting heat. My body, already awash with sweat, screamed at me to stay where I was, because venturing even another inch meant more heat and burning. I thought I heard a soft sound of surprise amid the popping of glass and crackling fire. Surely, nothing could surprise anyone anymore, right? However, there was no mistaking the sound of boots walking over the fallen door and my eyes flew open to meet my would-be murderer.

I couldn't see anything through the thick haze, just the shadow of an imposing figure standing before me. My eyes stung and had long-since stopped watering— too dry, unlike the rest of my sweat-drenched body. Something made impact, hard, with my shoulder, a foot possibly. I cried out in pain and anger alike. Why the hell would he kick me after all this? "Who are you?" the rough voice demanded. "Where is the Avatar?"

Rather than give me a chance to speak— not that I could— the soldier caught me aggressively, gripping my forearms and dragging me to my feet so quickly my head spun. I closed my eyes, expecting another angry blow, but instead I was swooped up, thrown easily over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He seemed to turn in disorienting, dizzying circles before I realized he was actually moving out of the room and the spinning agony was just my head. I went limp, unable to breathe, even while feeling blessedly sweet air brushing my face and toying with my hair in a blasé manner.

"What is that?" came another voice, unfamiliar to me. Either I blacked out, or we moved fairly quickly away, because I didn't hear it again.

Another voice: "I have this one!" A feminine scream followed.

"Split up," came an order from a female. "This way."

"Sokka?" I was awed at hearing yet another girly voice, and I silently prayed it was an ally, a Kyoshi Warrior. An odd thought struck me: this was a Fire Nation soldier. Was he not my enemy?

I was pulling in shallow breaths, though this was worse in a way, a tease as I fought off the blackness closing in on me. "Uncle, I don't see him," the man rescuing me said. He sounded much younger to me now, almost desperate. "The Avatar is here, though. I know it."

"Who is this, Zuko?"came a gentler voice.

I felt myself fall, though hands never left my waist until I was lying horizontally on something soft. A bed. I coughed, my body aching with the force of it, the sound blocking out the conversation around me. _Great,_ I thought dumbly, _I've been bought by another sex addict._

I heard the swishing sound of water in a bucket, felt a cool cloth on my face, my charred clothing, my hair. "I can't stay," the person called Zuko announced urgently. "The Avatar is—"

"Go on," that deep, gentle voice said. A door slammed shut close-by. "You'll be fine," the man told me. "When you wake, we all have tea together before departing."

Tea? I was sick of tea.

Just before the darkness closed in around me, I had a funny stream of thought provoked by the mention of the one called 'Avatar'. I'd heard of him vaguely before, so I knew he was this powerful bender, a myth. What intrigued me, however, was the way people's eyes lit up when they spoke of him, the way he could somehow bend all of the elements, the way he was reincarnated in the next nation after death. A new life.

What didn't make sense was why this Fire Nation soldier and his Uncle were burning down villages in rampant search for a man who'd died over a century ago. He— Roku, as the myths say— could bend his natural element as well as Water, Earth, and Air. If this Roku was a Firebender by nature, why would anyone threaten him by burning down a building? What could fire do to a bender, really? I remembered Zuko calling for the Avatar and was more confused than ever.

Unless . . . somehow, the Avatar was not a natural Firebender anymore . . . _a new life._

If I had just one past life, I would wish her a princess, a goddess, a witch, or a house-wife with three loveable curly-haired pests at her ankles. If I had many, I was certain a few would have been men, and I would wish them all kings, warriors, championed riders, or hunters coming home to happy families. Nevertheless, I know I could not compare with a man or anyone of stature. Only the myth of the Avatar displayed such remarkable quality. If I did, indeed, have at least one human life before this, it would be female and, doubtlessly, a whore.


	2. Royal Inquisition

Hello everyone! I intended this chapter to be longer, but ended up taking some off of the ending and adding to the start of the third chapter. Plus, I was sort of hoping to get reviews! :)

I'd like to thank **Voice of Opinion** for getting me into FanFiction with her lovely Airbender story, Meadow of Ash Trees! I'd also like to thank **mike50333** for his help, subscription, review, and encouragment through this process. Go check out his awesome Airbender story Destiny's Crossroads; he doesn't have many reviews. Though he has more than me, of course. Any one care to help me out with that? lol! Back to subject, bunches of thanks and love to **3DG** for her heartfelt dedication, support, and beautiful rendition of a Zutarian's point of view. :0 Go read her story, A Change of Heart! Hope she's not annoyed I borrowed her version of intro . . .

Enjoy!

**~Writingschizo101**

**I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender**

* * *

I awoke to semi-darkness.

The room was decent-sized, bathed in the flickering light of seven dimly lit candles lined in a row; they sat across the room, atop a low table above which hung a pair of dual swords. Other than this, it was sparse in the way of furniture or decoration. Four metal walls, a floor adorned with a tasteful Persian rug, the closed door nearest my feet, and the bed on which I lay.

Panicked, I shot up immediately, ignoring my spinning, pounding head, and swung my legs over the side to touch the floor. My body hurt everywhere, so there was no telling what could have been done to me in such a deep slumber, though I didn't feel the right kind of ache for that . . . No, there was no telling. I needed to leave _now_.

A quick survey showed I was still in the same clothes, a barely-there garment the color of piss and tight in all the right places; I needed out of this, this garb of flat-broke prostitutes given to me by the three drunkards. My right hand was tightly bandaged, possibly visibly blackened, and my skin reddened in some places, purpled to heavy bruises in others. At the place of impact from my "rescuer's" kick, my shoulder throbbed beneath the mass of my damp, ebony hair. The messy braid was undone now, the only alteration to my attire.

I imagined myself fleeing, flying past bewildered soldiers like a black-and-red bat from hell. So why wasn't I moving already? What else, fear aside, could keep me so rooted to one spot? I was on _a bed_ for that matter, sitting up and waiting for someone to saunter in and get their money's worth. Still I did not move, even when I heard the distinct sound of footsteps outside. In fright or anticipation, my hands curled into fists around the satin bedding . . . and then I realized what kept me here, in the striking-range of danger. Everything in this Fire Nation soldier's room— and the emblem above the bed confirmed it for me— screamed _money_.

Keys jangled in the door and, though I shivered at the idea of being locked in a room unawares, I could not let go of how my pathetic earnings were gone now, ashes in their little tin coffin. Perhaps I could earn them back tenfold . . . _or be tortured by a soldier. No way. _

I had no plan for when the door opened and no expectations either. I shied away from the blaze of a freshly lit candle . . . only to blink, turn to face the intruder, and realize it _wasn't_ a candle, not even close. The boy entering the room simply held the flame in his palm like one would a small animal or a piece of candy. I was stunned by the obvious control and restraint exhibited with the flame so easily used for destruction.

_Kyoshi Island . . . may the Spirits be with you. _

The red and black of a soldier's uniform could not be mistaken.

As the light danced and cast lazy shadows about the room, I could not get a good look at his face. In what I saw clearly, I guessed him to be in his late teens, of medium height and build, with pale skin and dark hair pulled back into a rigid ponytail, the sides of his head shaved bald. All of this I was used to seeing at one time or another, though rarely together. What stuck with me were the eyes, a rich golden color mauled by a horrifying scar on one side of his face. It looked like it might hinder the eyesight, though I could not be sure. It rendered the skin an angry red, however, and left one eye without a brow to match the other.

Like a burn.

I knew of this boy, if vaguely. At this current day, who could not?

That rough voice, already familiar, came yet again, laced with a wary surprise I did not expect. "You're awake."

A pause ensued. Employers did not normally speak to me this way, if at all. I swallowed thickly and opened my mouth twice before finding my voice. It came out as a scratchy whisper. "Yes."

I could sense in him this barely contained violence, likely channeled in that one flame, though an undercurrent of anger simmered in his voice as he went on. "I have a few questions I'd like you to answer, little one. If you cooperate, you will be free to leave."

What choice did I have? He was a freaking Firebender! An angry and confident one at that, for his voice conveyed he knew I was not stupid enough to rebel. I willed myself not to balk at his calling me "little" when he did not appear much older.

"Who are you?" I asked feigning nonchalance.

The room brightened considerably, from both the candles and the solitary flame he held. "You are in no position to ask questions," he growled.

I took a chance, then. "Neither are you. In killing me now, you rid any chance you have of finding . . . the Avatar."

I witnessed a visible shock jolt through him, as if he were not truly expecting me to say the name, or be so bold, though I would bet on the former. He took a step forward, menacing, and I flinched involuntarily. Big mistake. Upper lip curling back slightly, he sneered. "My name is Prince Zuko," he whispered, "son of Ursa and Fire Lord Oazi, and heir to the throne." As quickly as it brightened, the flame in his palm extinguished itself while he spoke, followed by each candle. In the dark, Zuko murmured, "You will tell me what you know of the Avatar."

I did not have time to scream before he attacked me.


	3. Acquiescence

So, chapter 3 is done. It was certainly a lot of fun for me to right! Fun, at least, for most parts. It is, I warn you, sometimes intense. I want to thank **mike50333**, **3DG**, and **zutara-luvin-gLeek591 **for taking time from thier amazing stories to review mine! Also, big thanks to **Katsu Lover **and **SilentVenom-n-BlackRoses **for responding quickly to my pleads for reviews!

Because of you amazing people, I now have 9 reviews, 9 alerts, 4 favorites, and 194 hits! THANK YOU!

To **3DG**: Thank you for the support, dear, as well as allowing me the pleasure of helping you out! You add new chapters nearly everyday, and that has helped when I can write no longer! This chapter is for you, most affectionately! Everyone go read A Change of Heart!

A few notes: I listen to music when I write. Therefore, I have a playlist I'd like to share with you. So far, the only song is **Ringa Ringa by A. R. Rahman**. The song is i nHindi, but you can look up the lyrics. The song is meant for Courtesans; I felt it appropriate. Also, please don't kill me for this chapter! I _PROMISE_ Zuko will have a chance to explain himself soon.

Enjoy (and please review!)

**~Writingschizo101**

**I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of its characters, aside from our favorite prostitute, Areida!**

**EDIT: 8/7/10- I fixed a big typo pointed out to me. Hope it'll make everything a bit more clear.**

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His body weight landing upon me was staggering in the sheer force and aggression behind it. I flew backward, forced to sprawl on the bed. On instinct, I went limp, resolving to how there would be no business dealt and no money today. I closed my eyes, biting my lip against the cry lodged in my throat.

Prince Zuko shifted suddenly, both rolling off to my side, and pulling my body against his at the same time. Confusion struck for split second before I realized what was happening. I felt an inexplicable surge of pure relief at knowing I would not be harmed in that way . . . and then the hot metal of a knife bit into the tender skin of my throat. Against my better judgment, I tensed, and then I felt his hand slide behind my head and grip a handful of my hair, yanking it back so swiftly I saw stars.

As he whispered, his lips caressed my ear, and I shivered involuntarily. The knife bit harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "You will tell me what you know of the Avatar," he demanded yet again, ignoring my whimper. "I saved your life, girl, and I can take it just as easily. Unless you do as I tell you. You owe me that much."

"You destroyed my village," I spat. "I owe you nothing." In response, Prince Zuko tightened his hold on my hair; the knife blade burned hotter against the wound in my throat. Both of these brought tears to my eyes, though I tried to tell myself I'd suffered far worse.

Before he could speak again, I began to wonder, to drift ever so slightly. The heat of the knife was not normal; metal was cold. So . . . he was doing this, and the increasing warmth was further proof. Even through his clothing, Prince Zuko's skin was abnormally warm, his hand too hot against the back of my skull. I did not know much about Firebenders, only they were able to create flame from their chi, draw it from their own flame carried deep inside. Anger fueled this, too, and Spirits knew the Prince was pissed. So why wasn't he Firebending the crap out of me now? Why bother with a knife when he could shoot fire out of his freaking hands?

When he spoke, the anger was ever-present, but beneath it was undercurrent of what sounded like desperation. The same way I remembered hearing him speak to his uncle about not knowing where the Avatar was . . . Oh, shit. "Your life?" he gave me a few seconds to ponder this, but I'd already realized what he was doing—trying not to harm me too visibly. He could have given me the same scar he bore, or worse. Yet the Prince must have respected his uncle and his wishes. Thinking back, I thought I heard a hint of uncertainty when he said he needed to leave . . . was he asking his uncle's permission, or was I grasping at straws? How was I so sure the uncle wasn't as bad as his nephew? Well . . . the way he spoke to me about tea and waking up . . . it was nice. He'd healed me as I slept. Was that nothing?

In the dark, on a soft bed with a Firebending soldier I did not know, I took a chance. "Yours to take if you wish."

The ensuing pause was agony in which neither of us moved. Suddenly, the knife was gone. My eyes flew open in surprise; I turned my head to see the candles glowing softly once more in the corner. Prince Zuko stayed absolutely still for a moment, and did not move again until I met his narrowed eyes. Before I could blink or question his motives, he swung one leg over me, pulling himself above my body in the most fluid movement I'd ever seen. Bracing himself on his hands and knees, he lowered his mouth to my ear once again to be sure I heard his next words. "You are protecting him."

"No."

The Prince pulled away abruptly, looking at my face to see if I was lying. His eyes widened for a split second, and then he shook his head to clear it. "What could you gain from this? From helping him?"

Knowing he decided I was not being truthful, I feared the worst. Sweat broke out my forehead, trickling down my temple as those smoldering eyes refused to let me go. His body was far too warm, too close for comfort. Memory flickered and died, brought on by the proximity; I was not sure if I wanted it back or not, but the entire thing frightened me beyond reason. "Please," I whispered pathetically, unable to stop myself.

I expected surprise, but it never came. Prince Zuko only starred at me for a moment . . . and smiled. Really smiled. He knew what I was asking him not to do, and that was the most dangerous thing to beg for in a captor's hands. Knowing what I wanted, would he still do it? Could he hurt me more than he already had, all the while hoping to gain information? Would I give in? My shaking body told me I might do just that before he ever touched me. It dawned on me then just how good this was for him— he knew I would not fight and there would be little evidence of this silent torture. His uncle may never find out.

"Please," I tried again. "I know nothing of Avatar Roku. I was told he died a very long time ago."

"Wh- what?" Prince Zuko rolled away from me yet again, and there shone pure panic in his eyes when he sat up.

I sighed warily, confused and too startled to move. "I told you— I don't know shit about your precious Avatar."

Astonishingly, Prince Zuko _closed_ his eyes and leaned his head against the wall and soft red cloth festooning the dreary metal, bearing the bright Fire Nation emblem. The position looked almost relaxed, but I was not foolish enough to miss the tension in his muscles. Like a sleeping lion with another pride in his territory. Always, he was on the alert, something I could relate to on a slightly less violent scale. I wondered if it had more to do with his terrible scar . . .

The next action was somehow _more_ off-putting. He raised his hands, balled into fists, and pressed them into his eyes, letting out a small groan. Almost like a child who didn't get his way and simply could not resolve to the outcome. This Zuko did not appear a Prince or warrior or even a Firebender in that moment.

And I was terrified of him.

If drunken men could fight back when they did not have their way, and sober men could bribe or blackmail me into submission, what was a warrior Prince capable of? I tried to tell myself I've been proven right when he took away the knife, that the blood on my neck and blouse were the worst of tonight's happenings; he would not kill me because he needed information, and he would not burn or beat me because his uncle might see. Yet he threatened rape only a moment ago . . .

Able to take this no longer, I sat up. Let him have his way with me and be done with it. Hell, forget pay. Just let me out! I shivered, knowing what I was relenting to in exchange for freedom. I did this all the time, though, did I not? I willed myself to forget how there would be no pleasure and no money, only pain. Worse agony if he demanded I fight. Oh, this was not helping . . .

"Stop this nonsense," I commanded, my voice sharp, but a tad too shrill to be considered confident. He dropped his hands and glared at me, his eyes glowing in the light of the candles. "Do you want to cry over the dead Avatar, or do you want to fuck?"

Prince Zuko was on me so quickly I could not be sure he heard what I said. He lunged for me like a starving panther, snaking one arm around my waist to pull me toward him, like a lover would, and then catching my face in both hands when I tumbled forward, gasping in surprise. I thought for a moment he would steal a kiss, but the Prince simply stared into my eyes, like some romantic theatrical performance.

"I don't believe it," he whispered, almost to himself. "You're Fire Nation?"


	4. Exchange

I won't bore you with a long author's note. Here's chapter four!

I want to thank everyone for reviewing! I have **15 reviews**, **6 Favorites**, and **11 alerts**! Thank you! By the way, the next chapter will be dedicated to another special reviewer! :) Chew on that!

The songs for this chapter is: **An Awful Lot of Running **by Alex Day.

And to **3DG**: Here's Zuko's POV just for you dear. Thanks for the advice!

Chapter five will be posted when I reach _**21 reviews**_!

**Enjoy!**

**Writingschizo101**

**EDITED September 28, 2010: Just a typo at the end. Silly me, I wrote 'bra'. :P**

* * *

_Zuko's POV_

I knew going in I could show no mercy.

When I saw her— a beautiful, exotic creature perched serenely on my bed— that resolve nearly crumbled. Yet I forced myself onward, refusing to look again at that lovely face. She was my prisoner, and she knew something of the Avatar— this reason alone provided a drive, as well as any excuse I needed to make her scream.

Yet I proved too weak even for blind violence against my enemies. Bloodying my knife did not sway her, nor did sheer intimidation. So, I chose a different course of action used by many warriors when dealing with difficult female prisoners. I planned nothing, just moved to settle on top of her, concealing my knife in my sleeve, and almost enjoying the way she tensed.

She would tell me.

Touching her was torture; she was too soft, too fragile. Before I would let myself get lost in all that, or be distracted by how tight her bodice was, I pushed myself away, bracing myself on hands and knees before whispering what I knew to be true, what I'd kill for. "You are protecting him."

"No," she cried, a desperate edge to her voice.

Abruptly I pulled away, hoping to see if she would meet my eyes and say it . . . "What could you gain from this?" I asked her. "From helping him?" Was she swayed by how young he was? Or did he threaten her in some way? I almost chuckled at that. _The Avatar— threatening someone. Stupid idea._

Sweat trickled down her temple, running into her silky black hair, and her breath came in raged gasps, making her soft breasts brush enticingly against me. It was good not to plan— I felt no surprise, no worry of losing control or failure when my cock hardened against the soft plane of her belly. She must have noticed, because suddenly she looked up at me and whispered, "Please?"

For a moment, in the light of the candles, I thought I caught a glimpse of gold in her irises . . . No. Wishful thinking. I'd found her in the Earth Kingdom territory, so I should not keep her. My enemy.

I could do it now, I realized. The threat became reality for both of us . . . and I loved the idea.

What an idea, indeed. Yet I could not do it, not if I had honor to restore. Not if I wanted Uncle to be able to look at me without contempt. So, I would be content with only the information I received.

Well, damn.

* * *

_Areida's POV_

"Of course I'm Fire Nation," I snapped, waving my hand in front of my face. "Could you not tell from the eyes?" I was being sardonic, yet he continued to stare at my pupils, trying to pull me closer even as I began to squirm further away. "Let me go," I pleaded fruitlessly. "I'm sick of your games, Prince. I want to go home." Despite how I no longer had a home, not for years, I wholly believed home was where this terrible boy could never reach me.

"Wait," Prince Zuko growled, forcing me to still by tightening his hold on the sides of my head. As he peered at my eyes, curiosity lighting his own, his thumbs stroked my cheeks bones, once, twice, three times, leaving burning trails of warmth. The action was unconscious, yet it contained all the assurance I needed to know he would not harm me again unless provoked. Not now. "Stop," came his rough whisper.

We stayed this way for a few moments longer . . . and then he released me, sort of pushing me back without force, and then looking away, starring hard at one corner of the bed with distantly thoughtful eyes. He opened his mouth, but shut it again without speaking. The anger was back, though milder this time, showing in the clenching of his fists, the muscles working in his jaw. He lifted his head suddenly and turned to look at the wall beside him where the Fire Nation emblem gleamed as gold as his eyes.

"Are you truthful, Miss . . .?" he asked tentatively in surprisingly tender voice, a voice which shook along with the hand on his thigh.

"Areida," I supplied. _I grow weary of this frustration!_ I almost told him. "What are you asking me, Your Highness?" Honestly, I was being as irresolute as he was, if not more. Part of me just wanted out, while the other just begged for . . . what, sex? Money? No, both. It was both. Some base instinct, like a trapped animal, told me to stay on his good side as much as possible, while still letting him know I possessed, so to say, inner fire.

Though he still refused to look at me, Prince Zuko's voice was level once again. "The last you heard of the Avatar was Roku?"

The thin cut on my neck was no longer bleeding afresh, so I dabbed at the wetness gently with the hem of my disgusting dress while I gathered my thoughts.

"Yes. I know Roku, if he existed at all, was able to bend his natural element Fire. He had past lives, and was able to learn Earth, Air, and Water like them. Then he died." Admittedly, my version was devoid of passion, and he, realizing this, turned to face me with surprise. "No," I told him firmly. "I do not truly believe it."

There was another pensive moment for both of us, and then I asked what I'd been thinking all along: "There's another Avatar, isn't there? A new one. You thought he was hiding in my village, in the tea shop."

He nodded. "I brought you here because I could see no other way for him to hide. I thought if I questioned you, we could return to catch him unawares. His friends were there . . . and I received reports . . ."

I'd never seen anyone so heartbroken in my short life. This may not have meant much considering most of the people I saw were aroused men . . . But I'd never meet a man who didn't look _through_ me even at his worst; Prince Zuko, despite his stature, eyed me hopelessly, like a child asking me to fix a damaged toy. Those eyes— I'd only seen them on one other person besides myself, and they still haunted me. The eyes in my memory were flat and dull, only alighting with a spark of cruelty when I screamed . . . but, Spirits, I could drown in the sorrow I saw now in Prince Zuko, drown or swim until I located what caused such hopelessness.

Only, he blinked then, and the bitter mask was back. His lips formed a hard line, but he continued to look at me. What did he want, really? "Tell me, Areida," he urged me flatly, "did you happen to see a child with arrows tattooed on his bald head?"

"What are you talking about?" I groaned warily.

"Just answer the question, please."

I feared the violence would resurface if I didn't assure him. Therefore, I told the truth. "I have seen but men for the last five months, and for that long I have lived on Kyoshi Island without exiting that wretched tea shop."

Prince Zuko starred at me, raising his one eyebrow in question. "Men?"

I kept my face composed. "Yes, men."

Prince Zuko looked me over with what seemed appreciation, taking in my outfit with an unreadable expression. I wondered just what he thought of me now, even if he could not figure it out. Did he like what he saw? Would he do what I expected of a man, a Prince, and regard me with nothing less than contempt? His voice, too, gave nothing away; how much practice did he have with this? Perhaps he negotiated trade along with his search for the new Avatar. "And just what did you do for these men?"

I exhaled. He knew.

A thin smile spread across my lips. "What do you wish to know?"

"Areida, why were in that abandoned tea shop? Why did you hide when your world was burning?" The boy before me was serious now— Princely, in a twisted way. As if Princes would speak to girls they knew fucked for money . . . unless it was to tell them to suck harder. I noticed the way he continued to peer _at_ me, at my face, in a manner I came to expect never to find. His eyes would meet mine as he spoke, as if assuring himself he was, at the very least, speaking with a Fire Nation girl.

It seemed stupid to ask why one _wouldn't_ hide from enemies, but I figured I knew what he meant. Did he know I considered him an enemy?

A choked laugh erupted from my sore throat before I could stop it. "If only I could say that world belonged to me," I said bitterly to no one in particular. "If only I tell you I explored every crevice of that island, and in five months, I watched it and its people change and grow. I'd love to say I mourn for its destruction, or that I even befriended one woman." I locked gazes with him, two pairs of Fire Nation eyes, one marred, just starring. "Want to know what I was doing for so long? Fucking every man brought to me by my three male keepers, giving in to their every demand— for spare change! The sensation only lasts so long before they harm you, if pleasure exists at all that day. Sometimes it does not." My voice was rising, but he never looked away, thus compelling me forward in my speech. "Let me tell you something, _Prince_. That damned island could not belong to someone who only set foot on its soil once before they were hidden away. It cannot belong to someone who has traveled and stayed in too many places to count. It cannot belong to someone who does not even possess herself!" _No matter who much I want it to_, I added silently.

My hands shook with anger, from wanting to hit something. Prince Zuko was not helping much either. He watched me closely in the ensuing silence . . . and then shook his head, the rigid ponytail swinging back and forth. And suddenly he sprung lightly from the bed, landing on his feet, facing away from me. His voice dropped low when he gestured to me with one dismissive hand, not turning to look. "I'll get you a bandage for that cut," was all he said.

I watched him exit the room, looking down at myself when the door locked with a muted _click_. My wound was bleeding again, a thin trail of red liquid seeping into the material of my hideous outfit. I stripped quickly with my still-shaking hands, relieving myself of the cloying yellow fabric. With relief I sighed, and climbed back onto the bed, wrapping myself in the satin blanket. There I waited in only thin undergarments, vulnerable in every sense of the word to anybody who walked through the door.

I did not care.

I ached all over, from my healing and bandaged hand, to my burning throat, to the roots of my hair, my aching temples and eyes, every place the ghost of his too-hot touch remained . . . Exhausted, I curled up and let the tears escape.

The bedding was still warm.


	5. The Prince's Clothing

**Edited October 22nd, 2010: Thanks to the lovely A Silence In Winter, I now know the original drink I had in the first paragraph is a more European! She also pointed out to me a big mistake! Areida and Iroh now bow to each other, rather than the very Western 'handshake'. Ick. How could I forget that? My brain is playing tricks on me! lol!**

**EDITED SEPTEMBER 28, 2010- Thanks to Omega Whiskey for her comments! I fixed typos, got rid of 'Miss' for when Zuko speaks to Areida (I agree that, since he sees himself as being above her- and he is- he wouldn't call her, or anybody, Miss.) For some reason, I put the word 'bra' again! Crazy! It is now fixed, though, thanks to her! :D**

==Hey everyone! It has been about two weeks since my last post, but I hope this chapter makes up for it. It is over 2,000 words! :D

You guys came through when I asked you for a certain number of reviews. For that, I am thankful! You are all amazing! I now have **31 reviews**, **12 Favorites**, and **16 alerts**! Shall we try for **47**** reviews this time**? Meaning, the number of reviews needs to be 47, not 47 more. Does that make sense? lol!

This chapter took an awful lot of time to write. I wanted to let you knw that the first part of this chapter (_the italics_) is what kept running through my head and inspiring me!

This chapter is dedicated to the amazing **mike50333, **who wanted a descriiption of Areida, and who had the grace to give me my first review! His story, Destiny's Crossroads, is awesome and deserving of readers! Thank you, for everything, Mike!

Sadly, I have a playlist for the outline of this story, but the chapter didn't reach as far as to have song. The next chapter certainly will! :) Yay for music!

Big thanks to **3DG** for being my lovely Beta and making this chapter better than it already was, as well as offering unconditional love and support, not to mention a few laughs, advice, and honest critique! 3DG, you are wonderful and I could not have asked for a better Beta! Oh, and, you must update A Change of Heart or else. Flying Ninjas will get you as you walk down the street! **MWAHAHAHAHA!**

NOTE: If there is no POV marker, you can always assume it is in Areida's. If I have a marker, you know there will be a different POV somewhere in the chapter.

I hope it was worth the wait. And pray you enjoy it as much as I did!

~Writingschio101

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters. Aside from my OC, Areida!**

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Prince's Clothing**

_I was used to sitting quietly while the Lady who was not my mother sipped wine, laughed at unfunny things, and spoke softly to her employer with that blood-red mouth brushing against his ear, so when I looked away I was surprised to have my presence acknowledged as the man asked my mother, "Can she join us?"_

_

* * *

_

"Excuse me, Areida?" Someone was shaking me gently, their soft, slender fingers on my bare shoulder. Too small to belong to a man . . . maybe a young boy. In my groggy state, I blinked my eyes open and turned over, not realizing until too late when the blanket slipped. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the person responsible for waking me up— a woman.

Not one for modesty, I sat up, leaving the blanket where it dropped into my lap, and stared for longer than would be considered polite. The woman before me was tall and willowy, Fire Nation robes clinging gently to her body and standing out against the pallor of her skin. When she dropped her hand gracefully to rest at her side and smiled at me, it was an easy twist of full lips, the light reaching her eyes subtly, yet illuminating not only warm welcome, but also a palpable sadness. Something told me this woman was capable of sneering if she wished, all with the grace of a leering panther, for there existed a hunger within her. Like a starving animal with no means of escape.

It never dawned on me how I could guess all of this just by a glance, because my mind was preoccupied with two unnerving things:

The first was the headpiece she wore in her black hair, a startling gold, two-pronged ornament that made her look like a princess.

The second was how _familiar_ she looked to me. Her face was not fully recognizable, only bits and pieces, if that made sense. The curve of her lips, but not the deep red color; the pointed chin, but not the delicate jaw line; the ears; the slender shape of her fingers, if not as well manicured and soft; the thick lashes; and finally, the eyes. They were a deep topaz, as striking as my own.

I blinked to clear my thoughts. She was speaking, and I needed to listen.

Still smiling, she said, "Tell him I love him."

I squinted at her, confused. "Who?"

"Please." The smile and warmth dissipated; she glanced worriedly behind her, at the door, which stood ajar to let in a bit of light. A deep V appeared between her brows, but it was somehow cute to me, like a child wondering when her father will return from a hunting trip, only to find him standing in the kitchen doorway. Laughter bubbled up my throat, but became wedged there and popped, leaving me choking and gasping for air. She paid me no heed, continuing to speak. "Please," she repeated, "tell him I love him."

"Yes," was all I managed to tell her. My mouth tasted metallic. A wracking cough made me double over and I rolled back onto my side, gasping. The woman, standing silently behind me, made no move to help. I forced my throat to work enough to swallow— and then I could breathe as if nothing had happened.

* * *

"Excuse me, Areida?" A familiar voice this time, I thought.

A rough hand I knew well by now shook my shoulder roughly, slender, calloused fingers digging deep into my bare skin. Warmth spread through me from that touch; he'd been Firebending only a moment ago, perhaps in a training session. The scent of smoke and ash was so strong I wrinkled my nose and sat up, letting the blanket fall into my lap.

My simple cotton chest-wrap was too thin; my breasts were about falling out of it from so much tossing and turning as I slept. _And dreamed_, I added, suppressing a shiver.

I met the gaze of Prince Zuko, admiring the eyes and tangled fringe of lashes— so much like my dream visitor's. The allure of logic gripped me, and I found the obvious answer in the familiarity of his face, the way he looked so like that woman . . . he must have come for me as I slept, dragging me unknowingly into that odd place between wakefulness and slumber. Because this place never makes any sense, I focused only on the woman's features, comparing them with Zuko's. So much likeness there, aside from the gentleness I had yet to see from this boy. It was easy to believe I'd simply seen _his_ face and body, and replaced it with hers. Yet . . . appraising him now, the young Prince looked so deliciously _male_ it seemed impossible the mind would become so utterly confused, even in dreams.

Stripped down to the waist, he may as well have been as exposed as I was, for the fitting pants he wore left just enough to the imagination to be enticing. Immediately, I banished such thoughts, but continued to examine him in earnest. He was sweating, his dark hair rid of its bindings and plastered to his head like some dark halo. The obvious exertion was something easily appreciated by athletes or loves alone, yet I was neither, and he was more appealing to me in that moment than I could remember any man being. His body was lithe, the muscles in his chest and abdomen clearly defined, befitting his obvious stance as a warrior.

Zuko was still staring, his mouth slightly parted, eyes wide and drawn conspicuously to my chest. I giggled impulsively, the sound snapping him out of his daze. Just like that, Zuko was princely again, blinking rapidly, averting his eyes. He wet his lips and murmured, "Get dressed. My Uncle wants to meet you. Out on the deck."

I looked to the dirty dress on the floor and wrinkled my nose in protest.

"Areida," Prince Zuko said softly. I could hear the smile in his voice. "How do you feel about men's clothing?"

* * *

_"Areida, do you like to play pretend?" my mother asked on the eve of my twelfth birthday. "Do you like playing princess or cook or housewife?" _

_I told her yes around a mouthful of cocoa and cake._

_My mother smiled sweetly and clicked her tongue in approval, ducking back to the parchment on the table. Chewing thoughtfully, I watched her elegant hand move the quill, her hazel eyes dart to my face and away. Finally, I found the nerve to ask what she was writing. _

_She did not look up again. "Thought I'd share my daughter's beauty with the world."_

_"What do you mean?" _

_Mother set down the quill and reached for her tea, giving me an easy devil-may-care smile before sliding the parchment across the table. I read penmanship with some difficulty:_

_Areida, Maiden daughter of Mei Hua_

_A limitless girl_

_Age: 12_

_Height: 4'5_

_Build: Slight/underdeveloped_

_Eyes: Golden_

_Hair: Black/waist-length/wavy_

_"I'm not finished." Mother snatched the paper from my hand and downed the rest of her tea. With a sigh, she folded the parchment with care, pocketed it, and pushed away her uneaten cake. _

_"You lied," I told her softly, "My hair isn't that long yet. It goes down to the middle of my back. I'm a little taller than that, too." _

_A hand darted forward and slapped me, hard, across the face, snapping my hand to one side. I held it there for longer than necessary, gathering my bearings and holding back tears. When I looked to Mother again, she was on her feet, smiling. "Like I said, I'm not finished." She leaned forward and pecked me on the cheek, kissing away the sting. "I'm off to see my employer, dear. Good night. Don't stay up too late."_

_No wonder she was so dressed up for my birthday._

_I waited until I heard the door slam shut, sighed, and reached for her slice of cake._

_I could not remember anything ever tasting so good._

* * *

I felt like royalty.

Strolling through the unlocked door, I entered the hallway for the first time since arriving. Only now, I moved unaided, clad in a Prince's attire nonetheless.

He'd given me a pair of loose-fitting pants, the legs cut short just for me. With this came a black shirt, and a red cloak with golden trim he told me he wanted back. The pants fit well, although the top was ill fitting, my endowment straining against the material. The silky red garment concealed this, I was surprised to find, and even more astonished to know Prince Zuko only added it as an afterthought.

When he presented the first two garments with a smirk, I offered to let him dress me. Politely, he declined, and left me alone to change.

The chilly, salty air bit at my bare feet and ears. I welcomed it, after being trapped indoors for too damn long, and neglected my hood as I exited the empty hall.

* * *

_This was my first time on a ship and I was crying. _

_"I really don't want to go, Mother." My voice was shaky, but not as hysterical as I would have thought. _

_This should be so much fun for you, Areida. The ship is so big, isn't it? The men waiting for you have paid so much . . . you do not want to disappoint them, do you, by not showing up? Come along, dear. _

_"Yes," I mouthed reflexively, knowing she was not listening either way. I was not agreeing with her. _

_Are you hungry? Yes, well, you'll get used to that after a while. They don't always visit, you know. Just remember what I taught you, and you'll surely be paid and fed well._

_I'd heard it all so many times. The woman dragging me along by the arm was not my mother, not anyone to listen to, not a person. Less than a female polar bear dog killing her pup. Not her twelve-year-old daughter, for those were harder to replace. An Agni-forsaken puppy. _

_Briefly, I wondered if the polar bear dogs really existed at all. _

_She kissed my tear-stained cheek before handing me off to a stoic young man who, surely, had better things to do. Her parting words to me were: When you get to the Earth Kingdom, run if you can. Go for whoever looks richest. _

_I was sold for 187 gold pieces. _

* * *

Watching Prince Zuko Firebend was no longer frightening, if only because it was not directed at me. "Like a dance," I commented from where I leaned safely against the metal wall of the cabins. Zuko smiled slightly, but did not comment.

Zuko's uncle laughed heartily even amidst the mock battle. Easily, he dodged the onslaught of flame, then turned to me, raising one hand to block Zuko's burning fist. "I assure you, Prince Zuko is not one for dancing, though I'm sure he would learn to enjoy it if he had the pleasure of a young woman's company."

Ignoring the comment, Zuko tried again to gain the upper hand, only to end up switching hastily to defense at the last moment in wake of the older man's attacks. "From the breath," he kept reminding his nephew, "not the muscle."

I could not help but smirk. Five minutes, and the only acknowledgment of my presence were insinuations about Zuko and I. Insane, really, the idea of any sort of relationship with the Prince of the Fire Nation. If only my mother could have seen me now— the possible riches would kill her. As the Firebending training continued rigorously, I entertained thoughts of sharing the prince's bed, lavished in jewelry and refined clothing of my own.

"I apologize on my nephew's behalf." The uncle's voice brought me out of my reverie. Startled to see the old man suddenly sitting so close to me, it took a moment for me to process his words. He was heavyset and gray-haired, yet when he smiled, I could see some hint of the free and youthful man he was in spirit. His eyes were so different from Zuko's, even with the lack of comparable scarring; they were so gentle, so open and wise.

"Huh?" I asked dumbly.

He gestured absently to the thin bandage plastered across my throat; I'd forgotten it was there. When he'd brought fresh clothing, Zuko helped me cover the more superficial injury, as well as rewrap my hand— I refused to look at that.

"I should have known he would not leave you be— not as long as he thought you knew the location of the Avatar."

"I don't."

"I know," he insisted, "and I think Prince Zuko will leave it alone for now. However, I showed poor judgment in leaving you to sleep unprotected. You see, I was tired after attending to you for half the night . . ." He grinned sheepishly.

"I understand. I'm sure you did not think I needed to be protected from the very boy who saved me in the first place."

A shadow flickered across the aging face, gone a second later. Instead, he folded his hands and bowed, a gesture I returned reflexively, despite my surprise. "My name is Iroh."

"Pleasure." I really did like him. _Much_ easier to talk with than his nephew, who made me uneasy even without the use of his knife. "_General_ Iroh?"

"Ah, yes, but you may address me by my first name. Much less formal."

"And Prince Zuko?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Formal is best," Iroh said, and left it at that.

An easy silence ensued as we watched the Fire Prince best only one member of his crew, the other three overtaking him. The boy was knocked to the side by a more experienced bender, though not quite as swiftly as with Iroh, and Zuko, visibly pissed, stood to confront them once again. Dance, indeed.

"Miss Areida," Iroh started.

I held up a hand. "Areida, please."

"Zuko . . . has informed me of your profession." Sympathy saturated his deep voice. Unused to this, I squirmed acutely. Yet the pause made me think he'd altered the question somehow. "It is not often we cross paths with Fire Nation."

I smiled. "I could say the same."

"Enough!" Prince Zuko shouted, and when I looked up, I saw one of the men slam against the side of the boat, Zuko's fists raised and glowing. Huffing angrily, he marched toward us, his mouth a fixed scowl. "Areida," he growled tersely, "hungry?"

I nodded meekly. Beside me, Iroh rose from the Lotus position and stretched, giving his nephew a significant look.

Eyes locked on mine, the Prince murmured, "Dine with me."

I remembered what Iroh said about formalities; so he wanted to order me, did he? I smiled lightly and bowed. "It would be my pleasure, Your Highness."

I left him to ponder that statement, wondering what Zuko considered pleasure.

* * *

Breakfast was a quiet event. The food was delicious, but I could stand it no longer, for the company of a steaming Prince and cheerfully ravenous General did not invite much conversation.

I chewed my roll slowly, pondering how best to state my question. "You know, roasted eggs, no matter how delicious, can only occupy me for so long."

"Eat something else," was Zuko's bitter reply.

I rolled my eyes. "I want to talk."

"About?"

"It is not my place, but I assume we have _much_ to talk about, my Prince," I said forwardly, locking gazes with him. His eyes remained impassive, though I swore I saw a muscle begin to twitch in his jaw.

Setting down my eating utensils, I leaned closer to the boy sitting across the table. "Indulge me."

"What is it that you want?"

Iroh almost fooled me with his calm exterior, but even though he remained silent and intent on his meal, I did not doubt he was listening.

"How many people are on this ship?" I queried, looking up at the prince through my lashes.

Zuko did not see beyond my façade. "Only men, Areida," he scoffed. "I won't have you distracting my crew." I thought I saw a flash of something other than disdain in his eyes, despite the blunt comment. A hint of the boy who spoke softly and held my face close to his own . . . and the savage who so easily attacked me.

The assumption stung a bit, but I could find no excuse to defend myself. My shoulders shrugged, and my hands gripped another hot roll. However, my mind was elsewhere, back in my plushy prison with that strange woman who looked so much like my Prince.

* * *

**A/N**: I hope you enjoyed the glimpses into Areida's head! Let me know what you thought of the chapter, please!

I assure you, the lack quotations in the memory at the shipyard was intentional, as I feel the piece flows better without them. Let me know how you feel about this, and if you would be okay with it lest it appear in later chapters.

Also, did it occur to you that the **Polar Bear Dog **reference was younger Areida's subtle way of calling her mother a bitch? lol!

R&R!

~Writingschio101


	6. Restless

**As of October 11, 2010- I will not post again until I have at least . . . a few reviews. I mean, I know I have not posted in forever, but getting zero reviews doesn't help much. Please review and tell me what you liked. I love that you read the story, but it just isn't encouraging not to have any reviews at all.**

**

* * *

**

**Significant Author's Note: **First off, I want to say how _sorry_ I am for taking _TWO MONTHS_ to finish one chapter! I assure you, I've been working hard, not so much with _writing_ the chapter, but in _editing_! As I finished the chapter, I sent it off to be Betaed. I waited a week before sending it off to someone else, hoping to post as soon as possible with or without my usual Beta, cruel as it may sound. I was stressing over getting this chapter right! Revisons went fairly well with my new Beta, taking only a few days to complete. At last, my usual Beta returned (with a very legit excuse as to why she hadn't been around for a while). That night, however, I let two friends read the chapter- because they're such awesome people, they were ruthless in editing my chapter, claiming Zuko was almost too thoughtless. I fixed most of their smaller, most nit-picky edits, but spent the next few days agonizing over the bigger picture. Eventualy, I decided I needed to do what felt right for my character. I wonder now if it was the correct choice or if you'll agree with it. I'll accept any suggestions you may have about Zuko. I left a lot of interpretation up to the reader, but was it too much? This is very important to me; I want Zuko portrayed well and this chapter to be worth the wait. At least it is over 3,000 words, longer than the last chapter I posted.

I would highly suggest reading Chapter Five: _The Prince's Clothing_ again, just to refresh your memory.

Let me know how you feel about the events i nthis chapter, maybe making one comment about each little section in this chapter. I WANT to hear what you have to say! After all, this _is_ for you.

**Betaed by 3DG, Omega Whiskey, and friends Sarah and Krystal.**

Dedicated to: **Omega Whiskey** for all her advice, critique, and praise. Thanks for returning the Beta-favor, girl! You're amazing and so quick to reply to my messages! I don't know if Omega will Beta future chapters, but she certainly can if she wishes, alongside the lovely **3DG**, of course. :)

I wish I could tell you I'm done with the next chapter, but I've been working so much on this one that I haven't been able to write Chapter 7 yet. I can, however, promise it won't take as long as this one. Mostly because it is entirely in Areida's POV.

I have also been Betaing several works, including stuff for both Omega nad 3DG, as well as:

**Rushing Beauty Wonder's**: _Used_, an Aang one-shot

And **xXSorryMaiZukosMineXx's**: _My Life's Changer_

(If you need something to read while I'm busy writing the next chapter.)

The song for this chapter is: **Animal I Have Become** by Three Days Grace.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. I do own Areida . . . and Lee, I suppose.**

**Enjoy!**

**~Writingschizo101**

* * *

_Zuko's POV_

"Uncle?" I called, pausing outside of his cabin to gather my thoughts. My flesh was burning in the literal heat of my resentment, sweat beading like gooseflesh on my forehead and limbs. I pulled off the cloak and threw it to the floor, letting the damp air cool my body. Absentmindedly, I wished I'd worn more loose-fitting pants, but that could be dealt with later. Once prepared, I said through gritted teeth, "I need to tell you something."

Inside, I heard him stir. "Come in."

He sat in a chair, clutching parchment in one hand and a chipped teacup in the other. Without glancing up, he asked what was wrong.

"That girl," I snarled. "The one lying in my bed—"

I bristled even more when Uncle chuckled, still not averting his eyes from whatever he was reading. Sparks ignited at my knuckles, flying in every direction before extinguishing. Lucky for him, Uncle explained. "Prince Zuko, most men would consider that an honor, but if you would like, just have her moved elsewhere."

"Where do you suggest," I asked acerbically. "One of our many guest rooms?" On a small ship like mine, the crew was already living in cramped quarters. I could always have her thrown in one of the cells but I doubted Uncle would appreciate that particular move.

Uncle sipped his tea. "Take her to speak with each of the men. If none of the crew offers to make room for her, they are foolishly immune to your authority and unaffected by a pretty girl."

I exhaled smoke through my nostrils and took a deliberate step forward, willing him to go on reading if stupidity allowed. "I don't need to accompany her— the girl would just fuck them in exchange for her room and board. I have no doubt she'd have ten rooms by the end of the night." _Including mine_, I thought wryly.

At long last, Uncle's engrossment wavered, and he looked up, startled and serious. "What are you talking about?"

Spinning on one heel, I turned to pace the vicinity of the cramped space. "She's a whore, Uncle. I rescued a fucking whore!"

"Just calm down—"

"Bite me."

"Nephew," he tried wearily ignoring my rudeness, "how do you know this?"

I was only half listening, muttering the utter gibberish of what became a mixing of reply and thought. "I should have known! What with her clothes, the condition I found her in— her skin color doesn't even go with those eyes. Agni, she'll ruin everything for me! She admitted it herself— she'd been screwing different men for money long before I found her. I cannot be associated with such . . ._ filth_ if I am to regain my throne, my _honor_. Imagine what my father would say. Shit!" I punched the far wall and barely felt the impact, my knuckles ablaze as I paced like a caged animal.

Uncle remained seated, sipping his tea deliberately. "Zuko," he said, voice rough with solemnity, "take a deep breath and sit. Your anger is clouding your judgment."

I rolled my eyes impulsively, but obeyed his order when the throbbing commenced in my hand and the flames died out. The room grew dim, illuminated only by a few candles. I forced my tense muscles into a meditative stance on the floor, slowly breathing in the stench of smoke, sweat, and jasmine tea.

"Now." The chair creaked as he leaned forward. "The girl told you what she does for a living, correct?"

I closed my eyes and nodded, inhaling through my nose.

"There is one thing we must discuss above all else: Does she or does she not have information about the Avatar?"

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me and I rubbed away the soreness in my eyes before mumbling, "Doesn't matter."

"Really? I remember you ordering me a few hours ago to force her awake. Or did I imagine that?"

"She knows nothing. Leave it be."

"Then what would you have me do, then?"

My eyes opened and I snarled, "Kill her."

Uncle peered down at me with a hint of laughter he did not dare voice. "Surely you can find a more sensible solution, nephew."

"No." I spat, but sighed and thought the matter over quickly. "I want her off my ship. Immediately."

I thought back to Areida on my bed, sleeping or still waiting for a bandage for her fragile throat. She'd felt so soft beneath me, so naturally pleasant it was enough to make any man yearn to bed her— and apparently most of them did. There was no getting around the fact that my body warred with my mind, with my sense of duty. Either I needed to be rid of her or between her thighs.

"What did you say about her eyes?" Uncle asked suddenly, startling me into awareness.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. They're gold," I replied. "She's Fire Nation."

"How . . . interesting," he said, leaning back in his chair, his hair falling back into place at his shoulders. "When did you come by this knowledge?"

"I got a good look while we talked."

"You did this calmly and without threatening her?" Uncle knew; he smiled slightly despite the stern question.

My mouth went dry. "No."

_Who cares what a crazy old man thinks? Hell, he isn't even a General anymore_, I thought harshly, my resentment lashing out at the last person who deserved it. _He ran like a coward after the loss of Cousin Lu Ten. He let his emotions take over, getting in the way of his duties._ I understood the demands of war now— my father made sure of that. If one girl needed a few threats and bloodletting, what did it matter when the Avatar was near enough to capture? _I'm glad I cut her— father would have been proud if I'd only had the strength to take her when the chance arose._ Father would have done everything he needed to— morals be damned. As a whore, she'd probably beg for him even as he plowed into her, gaining both the satisfaction and information he desired simultaneously. _Father will be proud of me_, I promised, _but only if I prove myself, be strong, be honorable. _

_Like Azula. _

The thought was chilling, for how could I compete with my father's devoted shadow? In his eyes, equality was impossible when beside the young girl who laughed at hatred and pain, whose best playmate was cruelty.

No matter what, though, I refused to be weak like Uncle.

What was rape to a whore anyway? Surely she would allow, even enjoy, sharing a bed with a Prince. A part of my mind knew I was being irrational, knew that hurting Areida would only mean hurting myself as well, but none of that mattered in the wake of my anger and hatred.

Still, Uncle's gaze was piercing. I shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than to leave. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure. . . . Something troubles me."

"Yeah, well, something troubles me, too," I responded flatly. "I don't have a bed tonight."

Uncle waved his hand absently, quieting me. "There's something familiar about her—"

"Oh Spirits! Uncle, I hope for your sake she is not in the least familiar to you." I wanted to wretch at the very idea.

He chuckled. "Not like that, I assure you. I just meant there is something about her energy I find odd, a sort of absence or loss of spark everyone else seems to have."

"Loss of what— her innocence? I don't think we know anyone with that anymore." When he just stared, I changed course, sighing. "Not this energy crap again," I groaned. "How the hell do you see absence in energy? I still think you consume too much hot leaf juice and it's all gone to your head."

Apparently, my words did not register; Uncle was watching something in the distance, pensive. "Prince Zuko," he said softly, "she's almost like a Firebender."

* * *

I snuck peeks at Areida as we ate, wondering how Uncle saw Firebender potential, saw anything but a tainted girl. She looked too delicate for the aggression of my natural element; not only that, I remembered the way she cringed away from the fire I yielded while interrogating her. Could such a person command flame?

I chewed slowly, glancing at Uncle even when he did not return my gaze. All night I lay awake on the deck in order to avoid seeing the sleeping girl and hearing Uncle's snores, thinking it over. At first, I figured Uncle was insane, but the dark night made room for the impossible, and thus I could examine his statement without fear of judgment. I was tired and sore, however, and could not help snapping at her for just being . . . _there _. . . and sexy as hell in _my_ clothes.

Doubt kept me from outright asking. If Uncle was wrong, I'd look like a fool and lose her respect, though fool or not, my position demanded it. _But_, I countered, _why didn't she defend herself last night when I entered the room? A bender would have taken the opportunity and been ready with the candle flames, at least_ trying_ to ward off her attacker. Maybe she was untrained._

I would need to ask Uncle how often peasants found masters. Not often, apparently, for a female companion of the Avatar's was still a terrible Waterbender.

"Areida," I asked casually, "how old are you?" Most children were around thirteen when their bending presented itself; usually girls displayed the ability before boys.

"Fifteen," she replied, eyebrows meeting in confusion.

I felt my eyes widen, though I told myself everyone was different. My sister could Firebend at the tender age of eight, while I was only just beginning to master the basics. Fucking bending prodigy.

Finished with her meal, she sat primly with her hands folded on the table, eyes downcast. The selfish part of me refused to dismiss her, though, and I moved on to my next question.

"How long have you been . . ." I looked to Uncle for help, but he promptly stood, excusing himself wordlessly. _Jerk_. I cleared my throat meaningfully.

A quick sigh escaped her parted lips, but her voice did not betray her annoyance. "There are many names for my profession, Your Highness, one of them being 'whore'. Others include 'budding concubine' or 'courtesan'. Call it what you wish, but I've been working for almost four years."

Silence descended. I wanted to push for more, but her tone was final and I had more pressing matters at hand. "So . . . what do you think of Firebending after watching us practice?"

"Please," Areida interjected, glancing up pleadingly, "may I leave?"

"No." She flinched as if I'd slapped her and I rushed to explain. "Look, there's something I have to ask you—"

"Excuse me, Prince Zuko?" Uncle returned, poking his head through the doorway with a deep frown.

I sighed, but stood wearily, watching a perplexed Areida in my periphery. "Yes?"

"We've had a run in with a Fire Nation ship," he announced. "Commander Zhao has asked to see you."

* * *

I refused to greet him properly, muttering a quick hello. Zhao smirked and bowed at the waist in mock respect, addressing one of the uniformed men at his side. "Here he is, Lee: our Nation's beloved Prince."

The three men chuckled, his two crewmembers somewhat forcibly, though Zhao was genuinely amused. I turned away slightly as if moving my head a fraction of an inch could hide the scar. The laughing stopped abruptly as Zhao dismissed the two men and addressed my Uncle.

"General Iroh. How are you?"

I noticed how neither man returned to their ship, both waiting out of earshot, but no further. I could keep track of all three outsiders easily, I assured myself. Lieutenant Jee stood just behind me, probably no more at ease than I was.

"Very well, thank you."

"I hope our former Crown Prince has not given you too much trouble," Zhao said cordially, his eyes darting to where I stood and away again. I could see . . . anxiety. Yes, beneath the calm, a muscle in his neck twitched and he seemed unable to find a place to put his hands. The warrior in me itched to strike him down for such weakness alone. Though my scowl did not waver, I felt myself straighten a little and face him head on. This was _my_ ship after all.

Uncle appeared surprised for a moment, only to cover it up with a laugh. He, too, chose to ignore how my adversary went out of his way to emphasize my lack of honor. "He has been behaving accordingly and his training, as you well know, has improved too."

"Yes, well, I . . ." His hesitation was all I needed to boost my own self-assurance, for even though his eyes did not betray any emotion, it was rare for Zhao to struggle with words. Defeating him in Agni Kai the week before felt best at this moment— aside from Uncle's praise, of course, and singeing the hair of his stupid sideburns.

"Did you want something?" I demanded. "If not, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Zhao turned deliberately to me, breathing smoke through his nostrils like a charging hog-monkey. "Inform me of what you've found out about the Avatar."

_Agni, do I really sound this crazy?_

I kept my face blank. "Still nothing."

"You lie!" he shouted, jabbing an accusatory finger. "You _will_ tell me or I—" Zhao paused, mouth open, and rocked backward on his heels. Uncle and I both followed his gaze, turning to look behind us.

"Areida," I hissed. She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over her ample chest. A scowl to rival my own turned down the corners of her mouth as she caught and held Zhao's gaze. _I told you to stay put!_

"Who's that?" he asked dumbly.

"No one who needs concern you," I said smoothly. I wasn't going to give Zhao anything, not even her name. "A waif rescued on Kyoshi Island. We're waiting for her to regain her strength and recover before sending her back." As I spoke, I glanced at Areida's face, searching for any sign of surprise, but her gaze remained focused strictly on Zhao.

"How gracious of you," he replied flatly. "I didn't know Kyoshi Island was attacked. Furthermore, I thought they were neutral as far as the war was concerned."

"They are," Areida murmured, her soft voice setting my teeth on edge.

_What are you doing?_

Zhao ignored her entirely as if he instinctively knew what she was, as if her sin would taint him by a simple exchange of words. "General Iroh, how many times has the Avatar escaped your nephew's grasp?"

"I can honestly say we never once saw him." Uncle focused his attention on Zhao, willing him to believe and, when I tried to do the same, my eyes could not help but return to the girl standing in the doorway.

Zhao narrowed his eyes, emitting a low growl. "A traitor through and through; your father showed you kindness, for I would have liked nothing more than to burn you alive then and there for you impertinence."

"You know, I was wondering about you, Commander. Something you said intrigued me." Our attention turned once more on Areida, who locked gazes with Zhao with cold detachment. "You speak to your Prince as if you are above him, as if you have a right to demand things of him, let alone information he does not have. I believe we already established he doesn't know a damn thing about the Avatar—" her gaze swiveled to mine and back again— "so, if you're finished here, I beseech you. Leave."

Zhao's laugh was so rich with malice it made her jerk away in surprise, yet he continued to address me. "She should be sent back to her island— or to a harem, where she can make better use of that mouth."

I wanted to spit on his shoes, to tell him to fuck off— but I had no proper response in defense of Areida, at least not one befitting a Prince's stature

"Does the Prince have a harem?" Areida inquired silkily. "I wouldn't miss the opportunity."

Lieutenant Jee cracked a smile.

Zhao looked furious, a vein throbbing in his neck, proving what Uncle claimed to be true. His weakness was his inability to control the very hatred that fueled him. "Prince Zuko— you know it is unlucky to have a woman aboard your ship," he announced as he turned away. "I think your father will find it very interesting to hear you've finally found someone desperate enough for money to have sex with a scarred and banished Prince." As Zhao passed, a small fire erupted near the entrance to the cargo hold, my hands ablaze as I watched the commander.

No one moved to put it out.

I watched Zhao closely until he boarded his own ship, flashing a sinister smile as he went. _You _will not _be so fortunate next time. You have a reason to be nervous._

Uncle sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you for not attacking him, my nephew." Then he addressed both of us, saying, "I believe we have much to discuss. Shall I put on some tea?"

I nodded vaguely as he walked away, unable to focus on anything except Areida's face. She didn't move, didn't even look at me . . . but her expression was one of disgust— and pity. The last thing I wanted was a whore's pity. More importantly, the respectful manner she exercised before was gone. Inspired by fear though it was, I would never regain it after this. I was common and shameful even to a damn whore.

I could accuse her of whatever I liked now and it would make no difference. Even of being a Firebender when my only proof was the speculation of a crazy old man.

Turning to the nearest member of my crew, I gestured to the crackling fire, and muttered an order for it to be quenched before I hurried passed Areida to drink the very tea of which I was sick.

* * *

Three times, she'd denied it, but I knew she lied each time, for her eyes roamed about the room, avoiding my steady gaze. Areida swallowed and wet her full lips, the nails of one hand biting into her thigh beneath the table.

"For the last time, Areida—"

"Would you please participate in a little exercise?" Uncle interrupted me with that same damned question over and over, using the same gentle tone every time.

Like killing a caged bird. Too easy.

She remained vehement. "No."

However, lack of sleep and dealing with Zhao left my patience thin. Uncle was saying something and Areida opened her mouth to spout more lies, but I was on my feet in an instant, striding toward her smoothly. I hardly noticed the way she flinched when I raised my hand, taking her by the arm too roughly and nearly dragging her from her chair. She cried out, only to be silenced when I shoved her into a corner, pressing my body against hers to prevent escape.

"Zuko—"

"Shut up, Uncle!" I growled, my gaze fixed on Areida. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she did not fight. I let go of her arm in favor of both wrists, bringing them together. "Open your hands," I ordered in a harsh whisper." She did as instructed, trembling, eyes widening at the blazing fist I held at my side.

"Watch." I turned my hand, palm up, brought it as close to our bodies as I dared, and slowly opened my fingers. This was one of the first real bending moves we learned— to control a small amount of flame. I inhaled in the hush of the demonstration, concentrating, willing the flames to move from the back of my hand to gather in the center of my palm. Heat licked along my fingers, leaving the untouched skin bare and almost cold without the flames I'd grown so used to. Allowing myself a quick glance at Areida, I saw her leaning forward, staring as the flames merged to form one small fire in my hand.

"I know you're scared," I told her softly, "but _this_—" I held the flame closer for her to see, satisfied it was contained even though she pulled away— "is natural. Deep down, you _are_ fascinated; you _are_ able." I swallowed, thinking quickly. "Uncle sees it; I see it. We all know you're lying about being a bender for some Agni-forsaken reason. I'll have none of that on my ship, so either obey your Prince as a citizen of the Fire Nation . . . or swim in hopes you'll find the nearest continent."

Areida waited a moment, but nodded tersely in reluctant acquiescence. Though her mouth was set into a firm line and her eyes were hard, at least I knew she would listen. "I can't stand the thought of someone denying such _power_ for even an instant," I said. "It sickens me— understand? Out there, even facing Zhao as he insulted me, I never denied my birthright as Prince, never tried to hide the authority I _know_ to be mine for the sake of saving my own skin."

I frowned. _Who's lying now? _

"Fire," I continued swiftly, "will not harm you." Reminded of my scar, I added, "if you know how to control it. Look, you don't have to be afraid, for even now, you could use this fire to defend yourself—maybe save that pretty face of yours." I smiled, though surely there was little to smile about, and applied gentle pressure to the wrist I held in my other hand. "Areida . . . if not for yourself, then submit to my authority when I say . . . take it."

I brought the fire within her reach and waited.

* * *

**A/N: **Let me know what you think of the new developments. The next chapter does explain Areida's . . . situation. If it matters. :)

Next chapter coming soon, as well as the backstory of Zhao and Zuko's rivalry! :D

~Writingschizo101


	7. Bending Truth

Hello everyone! It's been . . . months! 0_o **I want you to know I was NOT being selfish and waiting for more reviews on the last chapter! I got MORE than enough.** I hope a few of you are still interested in this story. I don't really have an excuse for not updating sooner. All I can say is this chapter took a longer time to write than I thought it might. It also took a while to be Betaed, etc. Any mistakes in this chapter are entirely my own, so please point them out to me. I'm not perfect. I have another one-shot coming out soon, as well as the second chapter of _Dark Knight_ fanfic, _Watching You Burn_. I've also been working on an original novel, so that takes up a lot of time, as 3DG knows. :D In my defense, though, this would have been up _a week ago_ if not for malfunctioning! It's working well once again!

This chapter takes place just before the ending of the last one. Obviously you don't remember that far back, so here's a little recap suggested by 3DG:

**RECAP:**

In the last chapter, Zuko talked with his uncle about Areida, venting about how having a prostitute on his ship was not . . . becoming of a prince. Near the end of this talk, it was suggested that Areida may have certain talent other than the obvious. Zuko contemplates all night, unable to fully dismiss his uncle's suggestion that she may be able to bend fire. General Zhao makes an appearance and, after giving both of them hell, lets slip to Areida that the prince to whom she afforded respect had no honor and no home in his own country. This chapter starts off before the very end of chapter 6, when they go inside for tea and questions. :D So, if you want, you can read this chaptr, then go back and read the end of the previous one. Let me if you need a better recap. They . . . aren't my forte.

So far, you guys have been amazing. Children of the Sun now has **65 reviews**, **3,199 hits**, **21 Faves**, and **32 Alerts**! Give yourselves a big hand and thank you for all the continued love and support! I hope I haven't let you down by taking so long to update . . . moreso, however, that you enjoy this chapter.

**Betaed by: 3DG and (Whiskey)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender and make no money from this fanfic. **

Enjoy!

~Writingschizo101

COOL INFO: We've got an amazing YouTuber on board, people! 1Cristal2 has read and enjoy CotS; she'll be working on a trailer for it! I'll keep you posted on her progress, though since I know she''ll do it well, it may be a while before the video comes out. I'll be sure to link it when it does. :)

* * *

_Chapter 7: Bending Truth_

_Areida's POV_

_"A traitor through and through . . ."_

I never thought royalty allowed themselves to be this angry with so little composure. Yet Prince Zuko crossed the length of the cramped room, ridged as any soldier, turning abruptly to cross back to the other side.

_"Burn you alive . . ." _

Ignoring his Uncle, even though he sat opposite me, Zuko paused. The candlelight behind him illuminated his scar, coloring it an angrier red. Though he spoke directly to me, Zuko cast a glare at the floor, eyes in shadow.

_"Scarred and banished prince . . ." _

"Explain something to me."

"Yes?" _Proper. Quiet. Don't upset him further._

His jaw hardened. "Why didn't you defend yourself?"

"When? Just now?" Honestly, the plan had been to remove all blush from_ his_ name, not defend my own. With my profession, what would be the point? In retrospect, I realized my status and gender alone were enough to do more harm than good. An offense. Worse, I'd stolen a secret: his name was not entirely pure either.

Was that, combined with seeing an obvious rival, the reason for such rancor? My heartbeat sped upon the realization that he possessed the authority to kill me. Right then and there. I'd made it transparently clear I didn't know where the Avatar was— or even, if Zuko was correct, _who_ he was. His uncle remained mute, sipping his cup of tea in my peripheral vision. What if the man I'd first thought kind and levelheaded turned out to be a violent as his nephew, allowing my death because of what I'd inadvertently learned?

"No." Zuko's sharp tone pulled me from my thoughts. "Last night."

"I . . ." I paused, wondering if giving details about the attack might awaken his uncle, get him to reason with his nephew . . . but no. Prince Zuko wasn't asking for details— he expected an answer. "I don't know."

"You lie."

"What? No, I—"

Zuko whirled on me, strong hands gripping my shoulders. There was so much unbridled fury in his touch— it was all I could do not to flinch away. "_You're lying_!"

"What reason do I have to lie?" I nearly shouted. "I'm being truthful— I really don't know."

Prince Zuko stared at me for a moment, eyes turning pensive. His grip loosened slightly and I mistook this for a sign of victory. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice quieter but still not without menace. "You're lying about your ability _to_ defend yourself. All benders must present themselves as such."

My blood ran cold. "You . . . you think I'm a bender?" Though there was no spoken rule, what he suggested was considered shameful, weak. We'd both grown up in a place where weakness was extinguished the instant it became apparent. He knew I was Fire Nation . . . but in these times of war, that didn't equate to strength— you had to be in the military for that. Perhaps, knowing I spent four years flitting from bed to bed of Earth Kingdom national, he considered me tainted by the enemy, no matter my home country or the fact that some of the men I'd slept with had skin blazing hot as the sun beneath their armor. He was questioning my loyalty.

Fatigue was getting to me, it seemed. I needed to remember his status and the superior intellect it brought with it; he was no ordinary warrior, and, in that, likely had the _right_ to know whether or not I could bend. Honor or no honor, I'd insulted him further— as if I didn't have enough to worry about.

My hand was beginning to throb, a deep ache radiating through it, pausing, and rising again with nauseating force. I grit my teeth against the awakening nerves, telling myself no pain at all would mean losing my hand. Pain meant the skin was still there— raw and damaged, no less, but still there, covering bone. Momentarily, I closed my eyes, blocking images, resisting a memory.

_This is what fire does to people._

A less troublesome pain persisted at my throat, a constant reminder of the threat on my life. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, feeling pinned there beneath the prince's steady gaze, and focused on breathing in the garments which suddenly felt too tight. I opened my eyes when Zuko sighed, the sound reminding me of the boy I'd seen last night who mourned the lost opportunity to capture the Avatar.

I decided, if I lived, I would like very much to see more of that boy.

"I can see the past twenty-four hours have been difficult for you," he said, voice rough with some emotion forbidden for commoners to see. I was amazed at the way a title, however divine, could allow a boy to conceal his thoughts if he chose to do so. "You won't last much longer. Cooperate with me." His grip on my shoulder tightened again. "Are you a Firebender, Areida?"

I couldn't help it. I flinched. Such a question . . . it was a violation, an invasion on the last bit of privacy I had left. The prince continued to amaze me, commanding sunlight to illuminate any and all places of inequity. Vaguely, I wondered if princes were not above taking part in palace interrogations— or if he was simply a natural.

_"A traitor through and through . . ."_

The words of the man called Zhao ran through my head yet again, but I pushed them away. Better to deal with the matter at hand, for I valued my life too much to risk switching to such a dangerous subject, one I shouldn't even know about . . .

Iroh spoke for the first time, voice gentle. "Would you participate in a little exercise?"

Zuko's face remained impassive, but I thought I saw his eyes brighten the way a man's does when he's ensnared someone. I willed myself to focus.

"Are you a Firebender?"

I shook my head just slightly.

I'd have bruises on my shoulders tomorrow. "_Are you a Firebender_?"

"No."

* * *

_I loved the flames— they made me like a human candle, the fire dancing across my palm. _

_The ability hadn't always been mine, but now it was as natural to me as breathing. The fire didn't hurt, not when I created it. The feel of it— not like that of a hot oven, but more like the caring embrace of a friend— completed me, made my body connect with the ball of fire in the sky and drink it's energy. My mother warned me in passing, sending me to my room with harsh words when she found the time. I didn't create fire there, just toyed with the candles until I fell asleep. _

_I was ten and all was right with the world until Mother came upon a scene in the pasture a few miles from our home. "Come quickly," she called in a sing-song voice, her sudden appearance startling me, for I'd stayed home alone for two nights. _

_"Mama?"_

_"Come quickly, Areida!" She stumbled toward where I sat at the low table, a lazy smile adorning her face. The sour odor of an unknown spirit grew stronger when she pulled me to my feet, leading the way to door on weakened legs, like an animal trying to walk for the first time. However, her words were good enough so as not to be completely drunk, though she seemed more cheerful than usual. The effects of alcohol were still strange to me._

_The day was sweltering, the waves of heat broken only by a reassuring summer breeze. We walked for what felt like the space of three burning incense sticks and though I soon grew weary, I did not stop. Not even for the fire lilies begging to be picked. As was her constant insistence, I followed her._

* * *

_At last, we came upon a wooden fence. I paused for breath, but my mother kept going, clumsily pulling herself over the rough wood and into the waving grass of the pasture beyond. I could not spy a single animal, though from my viewpoint, the grass did seem to shorten dramatically about a mile away. _

_"Well, aren't you coming?" Mama panted, her excitement growing. "We're almost there, dear."_

_"But . . . but we can't go in there," I tried weakly. Whatever excited my mother was no friend of mine._

_She rolled her eyes skyward. "It's _abandoned_, child," she insisted. "Has been for a few weeks."_

_I hoisted myself onto the fence, perching there and swinging my short legs back and forth like a small child. "Where did everybody go?" I asked._

_"They were ordered to leave."_

_"What?" I asked, shocked. "Why?"_

_"Remember the war you learned about in school?"_

_I nodded. How could I forget?_

_"Well—" she turned and began walking in the opposite direction— "It's got something to do with that."_

_"What?"_

_"Fire Lord Ozai sent them away."_

_I leapt onto the ground to hurry after her. It was easy to catch up what with the state she was in, but the grass tickled my calves and made me pause to scratch. "Why would he do that?"_

_My mother sighed. "Must you ask so many questions?"_

_"I wouldn't have to ask questions if you explained properly."_

_"We aren't supposed to know anything about this." She rounded on me, warning in her eyes. "Do not speak of this to anyone. Understand?"_

_I nodded mutely. Whom would I tell?_

_"Not everyone in the Fire Nation is good, Areida."_

_Again, I nodded. The men she kept company with were no exception. Something told me she wasn't referring to them, though. Mama appeared frightened, like a hunted animal that knows it's fate._

_"Some people chose to betray their country," she continued. "They must be punished."_

_"Wh— what did they do?" I asked, shocked._

_Mama ignored the question, choosing instead to turn and carry on our trek through the itchy grass, birdsong, and heat. I asked nothing else._

* * *

_We walked for longer than I thought mother could stand, but she urged me onward despite her obvious exhaustion. What in Agni's name did she want me to see? The grass shortened eventually and we stopped— finally!— when we came upon a grove of trees._

_I covered my nose. "Ew! What's that smell?"_

_Mama grabbed me roughly by the arm and pressed her face so close to mine the smell of spirit almost overpowered reek of whatever hid in the trees. Almost. Nothing could be stronger than smell of decay so present here. "You'll tell no one?"_

_"I won't," I agreed, and she released me. "What are we doing here?"_

_"Halt!" I jumped in fright at the second voice, so unexpected in the calm pasture. A uniformed man stepped out from behind a tree. Though I'd never seen a soldier up close, I recognized the red of the armor, the color the same as what most citizens favored and a promise of bloodshed to all enemies. He took what could only be a fighting stance, hands extended in a technique I could only hope to understand one day. "What trespassers are these?"_

_"We've no death wish, sir," my mother said softly._

_With that, his posture shifted dramatically from offensive to casual. His hands moved to his helmet and, to my surprise, lifted it to reveal a youthful face. His hair was dark and curly, matted to his head with sweat, but his face was open, friendly, and when he smiled, it made him seem approachable. The soldier couldn't be a day over twenty._

_Mama dropped her defensive stance as well, bouncing toward the man like a happy young girl. She returned his smile, but only paused for a moment before continuing into the trees. "Thank you," she called to him. There was no mistaking his delight. Ah, the effect my mother had on men._

_"Took you long enough, Mei Hua," was all he said. The man eyed her retreating figure for longer than was polite before turning to me. "Hello." I decided I liked this man when I found no hunger in his eyes, only friendliness toward me. If mother wanted to spend her time with men more like these, I might be happy staying home alone while she traveled._

_I took a deep breath and held it, following my mother. The smell grew stronger with each step and it was impossible to get away from when breathing steadily became necessary. I gagged, but the man simply chuckled and shook his head, placing a firm hand on my shoulder in an attempt to guide me. I pulled away from him and he did not touch me again._

_Strange— to my right, a tree sat pitifully, half its bark darkened with burn marks._

_Ahead, my mother paused and sat down on a fallen tree, a hand reaching into her pocket to retrieve a flask. I watched her drink, realizing this was how she could stand the smell. I swallowed the bile in my throat and met up with her, sitting as well._

_I hated my mother in that instant, hated her for dragging me here, for drinking, for sleeping with men, for making me endure this horrible smell, for—_

_Then I looked ahead and saw the bodies._

* * *

It was Iroh who brought me back, his gentle voice breaking through my reverie. "Areida, I promise no one is going to hurt you. Would you please—?"

"She heard you the first time!" Zuko shouted. He'd resumed pacing again, hands linked behind his back, head down. The pain in my hand flared and I stifled a cry, imagining the agony he undoubtedly suffered the day he got his scar. "The salve you gave her," he added in much quieter voice, "it should be wearing off now, right? I applied some this morning with her bandages, but . . ." The prince paused and glanced inquiringly at his uncle, who took one look at me and nodded.

Prince Zuko inhaled slowly, eyes drifting half-closed as if this were some sort of calming exercise. He then leaned against the table, arms crossed, deceptively casual, and addressed me without eye contact. "Does your hand hurt?"

"Yes."

"You want that to stop, don't you?"

I shifted, stretching out my stiff legs under the table. "I'd prefer it, yes."

"There's a salve made to treat minor burns like yours." Did I imagine the slight hint of jealousy in his voice? Or the way he seemed to stress the word 'minor'? "Answer my question and you'll be pain free for a few more hours."

I thought maybe I could toughen it out, work through the pain— but my hand pulsated beneath the bandage, sticky with sweat and soon to melt off altogether from the heat. My hand _hurt_ and, when I anticipated the relief this salve would bring . . . my resolve nearly crumbled.

Therefore, I turned to a memory. In this memory, I found and clung to the very first instance I ever truly resented my mother.

* * *

_I'd never seen a dead body before, yet here in the clearing, there were three. Well . . . three whole ones, at least. There was a moment in which I did not breathe, did not think, did not move— just looked, and saw, and wondered forbidden thoughts before I fell to sickness on the grassy floor._

_Behind me, Mama made a noise of disgust. I heard a sharp clang as her flask hit a nearby tree, felt her land on the ground beside me. I drew my sleeve across my mouth just before I felt her hand grip my chin, forcing me to look up again. "You want to be a bender, Areida?" she hissed. "Look at this. This is what fire does to people."_

_The image was branded into my mind, though. I knew, even then, I could not escape the broken, burned limbs scattered about the clearing, the bodies dropped carelessly on the blood-caked ground. Their skin, blackened so badly, rendered them unrecognizable if not for the discarded helmets. A few feet away sat a disembodied arm, the bone glowing white under the sun, the skin burned clean off._

_"She's a bender?" the soldier asked with a little too much enthusiasm. Though my eyes were still searching for a safe place to settle, I could almost hear the glare she used to shut him up again. I peered up at the sky for what felt like hours— and then Mama let me go._

* * *

I'd made up my mind.

"For the last time, Areida—"

"Would you participate in a little exercise?"

I swallowed thickly, but did not relent. "No."


	8. Training

Hello faithful readers!

It has been so long, I won't even try to make up excuses other than the fact that I just finished my first year of university. Here's another chapter for you and, although it's short, it's purpose is both to remind you that, yes, this story is still going on, and maybe refresh your memory on what has happened so far. Chapter 9 will come within the next few weeks and will fill in the gaps and finally get this story going again.

Enjoy!

Betaed by: Omega . whiskey, who writes amazing Zutara stories herself, and whose story I am currently Betaing. Check out Prince's Slave! :)

DISCLAIMED: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any part of Avatar: the Last Airbender. Only Areida is mine.

* * *

Chapter 8: Training

Areida's POV

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this."

We were out on the deck again, far from Zhao and his ship, the sun beating down on us despite the fact that we still were not that far north. Yet I was already starting to sweat. Maybe living on Kyoshi for so long had made me soft— but the sight in front of me was also a likely contributor to my problems.

Prince Zuko stood in front of me, shirtless, a fact I tried hard not to think too much about, knowing I'd failed miserably the moment he'd casually removed it. I'd been so distracted by his bare chest that I hadn't really listened to what he was saying, what his explanation was for suddenly dragging me out here. Then he'd said my name sharply and repeated himself, something he probably wasn't used to doing as a prince. "I'm going to teach you Firebending," he'd said. "No objections. You _are_ a bender— don't look at me like that. You held fire just now. Something that would be impossible for anyone else."

Now he watched as I awkwardly stood the obligatory few feet away, probably looking like the most pathetic bender in history. He was studying me, I realized, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do now. I met his gaze head on, though I was sure it would get me into trouble somehow; he'd seen me frightened enough for one day. When he finally looked away to watch the sky, he asked a question.

"Areida, why don't you want to Firebend?"

I glanced at General Iroh, the only other person near enough to hear. He was immersed in a game of some sort, but whether or not he was listening, I couldn't tell.

Choosing my words carefully, I said, "Maybe that's a story for another time." When he said nothing, I added, "Why do you want to teach me?"

Zuko met my eyes again and I thought I saw a trace of a smile on his face. "Another time."


End file.
